Truly Alive
by jaxx37
Summary: A long time has passed since Pat Kerrigan was free, now she must deal with that freedom as ghosts from the past threaten to shatter her fragile state while new found friends offer their assistance. Pat/Sheena Nikki/Helen possible Kris/Selena later on.


I own nothing. It's a shame really, if I did then the show would never have been axed!

Fifteen years. A lifetime to anyone. Even walking through the gates of Larkhall she notices the change. The outside walls look even more daunting now than they did all those years ago, the faded stone still holding strong against the elements. Standing outside the prison for the first time she is surprised to see that the walls hide the truth of the place remarkably well. If she had not been incarcerated there for so long she doubts even she would realise the truth behind the public persona. Stepping into the street she savours her first taste of freedom. For the first time in years she feels truly alive. She reaches into her pocket and takes out a hand full of small change as she walks towards the nearest bus stop. The plastic bag with her few belongings slung over her shoulder like a sailors duffle bag. She would have walked if she had known the way to the half way house, unfortunately the prison were pretty useless and gave her bare details about how to get there, had they let her out a year earlier she would have had somewhere to go but timing was not the strong suit of justice and she couldn't let that bother her now. Things in life never worked out for her in the long run, she knew that from bitter experience. The clothes she wore seemed old and scruffy compared to how they had once looked, prison wasn't a place that required fashionable clothing still she was surprised to find that standing at the bus stop she didn't look too out of place next to the two men and a woman also waiting there. Were it not for her prison issue plastic bag she would have looked pretty normal. Inwardly she cursed herself for not having the insight all those years ago to bring a hold all with her! Still at least she was out and she was alive. Something few people could claim in that hole. Stepping onto the bus she pays the fare, bloody extortion, and settles herself into alone into a window seat. Watching as the bus pulls away and the prison fades into the distance she holds back the tears of relief that threaten to flood. Everything from that time a distant memory. Albeit one she knows will haunt her every waking moment.

Half an hour from the prison and she finds herself in the grounds of a large building surrounded by trees so as to seclude it from the rest of the neighbourhood. From the outside it looks very much like a stately home, although that illusion is spoiled by the large sign at the main gate stating 'Lindsey and Hunt Halfway House'. She knew that this was where the two Julies had come when they had been released a few years previously. She wondered if she would meet anyone familiar here. Unlikely she reasoned given the length of time she had been inside, all those of note were either dead or still there. Those that hadn't moved on that is. With that thought she felt those tears threaten once more. Although this time for different reasons. Barbara Hunt, now known as Barbara Mills greeted her warmly as she entered through the large doors and into the reception. Barbara made her feel at ease, she was much older but that made her all the more friendly. A motherly figure for the women she helps.

'What's your name dear?'

'Pat. Pat Kerrigan'

Barbara smiles gently as she writes the necessary information onto a form before leading Pat up the stairs and to her room. Pat follows quietly, feeling overwhelmed by everything around her after the blandness of her cell. Everything is freshly painted, crisp neutral colours and not a hint of green or pink to be seen. She sits on the queen size bed and feels herself sinking into its softness. This is going to take some getting used to, having spent fifteen years sleeping on a hard mattress with springs digging into your spine soft beds were something that would take some adjusting. Not that she had anything better to do, her time at Larkhall wasn't the most productive of her life. Unlike some she didn't spend hours in education, she never expected to survive long enough to need the qualifications, but she was fit and healthy and knew she would make a good labourer for anyone who needed the help.

Sensing that she is not going to get much more from the woman in her care Barbara closes the door softly behind her. As soon as the door closes Pat allows herself to cry. Tears that speak volumes, love, loss, regret, pain, bitterness and fear. All wrapped in an all consuming waterfall of tears and wracking sobs. Pat Kerrigan, Top Dog of G-wing for fifteen years falls apart as her mind is over whelmed by her feelings of isolation.

Sheena Williams curls up on one end of her slightly worn sofa, her son Dylan on the other end playing games on an old fashioned games console. Apparently the game play is better on the older models. Which is just as well because there is no way she could afford to get him anything newer. Sheena watches him as his hands deftly fly over the controls, his brow furrowed in concentration. She remembers vividly that she almost lost him all those years ago. Proud in the knowledge that her past, while not ideal, has not detracted from his future. They may not live in the best area, she may not earn a lot of money but at least he goes to a decent school and he is doing well there. It makes up for all that she has given up in pursuit of a stable future for her son. The long, tedious hours, the struggle to keep their two bed flat, and other things she dare not think of. Things she misses too much. The world was very different fifteen years ago.

She shakes herself from memories that threaten to become conscious thoughts, regrets. Instead kissing her son on the cheek and warning him not to stay up all night before heading to bed. Her bedroom consists of a second hand double bed, an old wardrobe and a dresser with a lamp on it. Clothes are strewn over the bed and floor which she cannot be bothered to move now and will never have time to move in the morning. The flat is what an estate agent would call 'cosy'. in other words 'small'. The rent however is fairly cheap for the area and it is less than ten minutes walk from the 24 hour shop she works in. As she gets changed and climbs under the warm duvet she drifts into an uneasy sleep. Filled with images from the past she has tried not to think of. Although she knows that she always will at this time of year. Fifteen years since her departure from Larkhall it is inevitable that her regrets, and her anger will stir within her subconscious.

An hour later she awakes in a cold sweat, her slightly faded red hair matted to her forehead and tears in her eyes. Sensing someone else in the room she turns the beside lamp on and sees Dylan standing in the doorway. Wordlessly he moves to her and envelopes her in a comforting hug. Every year at this time he knows his mother suffers nightmares, he has tried many times to get her to talk about them but to no avail. Occasionally he has heard her cry out the name 'Pat' in the throes of those dreams. He has no idea who Pat is. But tonight was no exception to that rule.

Pat Kerrigan wakes from a light sleep and for the first time since she was imprisoned has no idea what to expect. With the freedom she has earned through her years inside she has lost that familiar routine. No screws to tell her where to go or what to do, no regular meals. No routine. Everything that she has become accustomed to, greasy food, clinical stench of sweat and urine, watching her back in case the screws or cons try something. None of that matters anymore. The thought of losing that edge scares Pat more than that life ever did. After all this time it is not fear of what she knows is happening but fear of what she does not know that drives her. Clinging to the vestiges of her routine she moves to the bathroom, showers quickly and dresses. She grabs her coat and the small amount of cash that she has and leaves the halfway house, the door slamming behind her.

Once outside the gates of the half way house she has no idea where to go. She wanders aimlessly at first before her stomach, used to regular albeit inadequate meals, reminds her that she has not eaten since breakfast yesterday. Having no idea how much it would cost to eat in a local café she heads to the local shop. Knowing she will at least have enough for a sandwich. Something else she knows she needs is a job, wondering whether anyone would seriously employ a convicted murderer she resolves to at least buy a newspaper and try. Her cynical nature tells her it is a waste of time.

As she walks down the quiet main road Pat is once more on her guard, expect the unexpected. Always. That is the code she has lived by for most of her adult life. Strangely she trusts the outside world less than that behind bars. At least inside she knew who she could rely on. Well most of the time at least. Here she has noone and with that an increasing mistrust and caution envelops her. If Buxton could see her now, its pathetic, she chides herself. At least she was here now. Not like Buxton. But in truth the outside world has never been kind to her. It is difficult to trust. Somehow it highlights her every regret. The street is mostly houses although there are a few small shops scattered on one side with a newsagents on the far corner. Deciding that she should get the newspapers before the shop sells out she heads to the newsagents. As she walks she struggles to keep her fears under wraps. It has been years since she was in a shop, she knows things have moved on since she was locked up. Stolen glances at newspapers and glimpses of TV have told her that much.

The door opens with a jingle jangle causing Pat to jump slightly. Again she chides herself - get a grip Kerrigan it's a bloody bell! and walks carefully inside. The shop is tiny, a family business. Yet to Pat it seems huge, the shelves stacked high with cans, bottles and packets. More than she has seen in a long time. Not like old Bodybag's tuck shop. Feeling out of her depth she almost turns back, but her determination kicks in. No way is she going to live like a coward. No way. So instead she marches resolutely towards the rack of newspapers. At least some things never change. She selects two newspapers from the shelf one broadsheet and one tabloid. At least it gives her something to do. Digging deep into her pocket she gets the exact change out, an old habit from Larkhall and heads towards the till. The shop is empty and there is only one woman serving. As Pat approaches the counter the woman has her back to her, packing the shelves with cigarettes. In years gone by Pat would not have hesitated in calling to get the woman's attention, now she waits patiently. She places the two papers on the counter and waits. She doesn't have to wait long and in that moment she wishes she could run, as far as possible. She is face to face with a shadow from her past and her heart is pained with fear, longing and other more raw and indefinable emotions. The other woman sees the emotion clearly for only a moment until Pat recovers her self control. Wanting to scream at the top of her lungs instead she says in a low and level voice:

'Hello Sheena'

'Pat…'

Pat swallows hard, at a loss for words. Her palms sweat and her mind loses focus. Instead she can do nothing more than stare at the woman before her, more beautiful now than the day she last saw her 15 years ago. Her freedom has treated her well. Pat can tell that much from the brightness of her eyes, a spark within them reveals a lust for life she has only seen in her once before. A moment that has haunted her every waking moment since. It is Sheena who breaks the silence first.

'how have you been?'

Pat wishes she could scream at her the things that have happened since she left but instead she regains her focus.

'Good thanks. Glad to be out of there.'

Sheena nods in understanding. The kind of understanding that only an ex-con can give. Pat smiles for the first time since leaving Larkhall. A gentle smile which only briefly appears before disappearing behind the mask of control once more.

'I have to go Sheena.'

Pat turns away, dropping the money onto the counter as she leaves papers tucked under one arm. She moves more briskly now. Desperate to get away .

At first Sheena is too stunned to move from the counter but she runs out and reaches for Pat's arm catching her as she is about to leave. Pat stares at her with a mixture of fear and sorrow. She pulls away, not wanting to be in such a vulnerable position.

'Just leave it Sheena. Please.' she walks from the shop leaving Sheena alone once again.


End file.
